The Burning Need in the Speed
by Skole
Summary: Brennan saves Booth's life and he wants to take her out to dinner to thank her - but Sweets has arranged for Brennan and Cam to go Speed Dating instead. Written as a challenge from Brainysmrfs. Spoiler-free! Choc-covered Booths for reviews :D


The Burning Need in the Speed

**Disclaimer:** BONES does not belong to me; but my sunglasses are my own...

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**A/N: This story is set in the Season 5 BONES universe, post the 100th Episode, around the time of The Boy with the Answer. I've been challenged to write this story by Brainysmrfs, via a chat at The Lab Forum following the screening of 6x05. The requirement for this story is to tell a humorous tale of speed dating, featuring Brennan and Cam. There is also a dedication for this piece upon the occasion of Angie's Birthday and Smurf's Anniversary - best wishes to both of you, ladies! **

* * *

Dr. Jack Hodgins looked up from his station next to the Forensics Platform and sighed as the sealed gurney, plastered with human remains stickers, was wheeled through the main doors.

"Another day, another dead dude..." he mused aloud, receiving a withering look from Dr. Saroyan in response. Had the opportunity arisen, Cam would have liked to have reinforced her disdain with a verbal rebuke, but that proved impossible to do over the loud bickering that followed the corpse into the lab. As usual, it was Booth and Brennan, going hammer and tongs at each other over some triviality; blowing off some frustrated steam from their epic inability to admit that they just needed to get laid, preferably with each other.

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Brennan was wearing her field coveralls and carrying a sealed plastic bag containing her goop covered boots, ready for decontamination. Booth was walking gingerly beside his partners in stripy socked feet, his shoes also in a bag, but sadly ready for the incinerator. Cam raised an eyebrow. No wonder Seeley was pissed, he took months to wear in his shoes and he generally mourned the demise of any pair beyond repair, like a Stanley Cup loss. Judging by the devastation visible to the black clumps formerly known as 'The Shoes of Seeley Booth', it appeared that the deceased was going to be a gooey one.

Brennan was mid-rant, in a hyper-rational response to the complaint from her partner. "The floor of the lab is constructed of a hermetically sealed epoxy layer over polished concrete, Booth. The surface of which, will be cold on your feet. Perhaps you would prefer to wait in my office, which is carpeted, or wrap the blanket from my couch around them if you need to."

"All that my feet need, are my shoes, Bones!" ranted Booth.

"A spare pair is being brought for you from the Hoover," reasoned Brennan. "Then you will have your shoes."

"Not those shoes!" said Booth, holding up the bag containing the sad exhibit to make his point. "These shoes...can't Hodgins fix them?"

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"Entomologist, Mineralogist, Botanist...not a Cobbler, man...I don't fix shoes," proclaimed Hodgins snarkily.

Brennan now looked supremely unimpressed felt inclined to explain the reason why Booth would think that Hodgins could provide a solution. "I believe that Booth is referring to the fact that he damaged his shoes by stepping into a patch of a highly corrosive substance at the crime scene. After I forcibly removed the shoes from Booth's feet, the alkaline chemical was neutralised by the firefighters standing by, but not before the soles were almost completely melted away."

Booth placed his hands on his hips and squared off against Brennan. "Forcibly removed my shoes? Try, tackling me onto a tarpaulin, pinning me down and waving your ass in my face, whilst ripping my favourite shoes off like they were on fire!"

Brennan stepped into his personal space, arcing up for a fight. "Technically, your feet were burning, Booth! You asked why the ground was so hot, I looked at your feet and observed the soles of your shoes smoking and melting. I simply took action. Fortunately for you, I happened to be wearing the appropriate protective equipment, avoiding any injury to myself in the process."

"Dude, you are seriously lucky," commented Hodgins. "Something that corrosive could have burned your feet so badly that you may have never walked again."

Booth paused his rant and leaned in closer to Brennan, a look of disbelief on his face. "Is he for real?" he asked her. She stared at him levelly, brows rising dangerously at his ridiculous request for further validation.

"They're right, Seeley," interjected Cam, before Dr. Brennan started getting physical, Chuck Norris-style. "Corrosive chemical burns are devastating. Once contact is made with living flesh, the corrosive agent continues to decimate tissues, becoming almost impossible to neutralise. You could have lost your legs, or worse. Dr. Brennan's timely action may have saved your life."

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Booth started violently, dropping the bag containing the remains of his shoes, as if it contained a nest of deadly vipers. Brennan continued to stare at him, but the anger had given way a few millimetres to allow her concern to show.

"Bones...I'm sorry...I didn't realise…," said Booth in a low voice.

She gave small smile. "But I did realise. I happen to care about the safety of my partner in the field."

"So much for _'gun goes first'_, huh?" he said in self-depreciation.

Her smile widened, taking on that slightly crooked quality that drove him slightly crazy. "It appears that _'brains go first'_ occasionally" she teased.

"Thanks, Bones...really. You're the best," he informed her in his most charming tone; which dependent upon the sexual orientation of the observer on the platform, triggered either an eye roll, or a gag reflex.

"I know," replied Brennan, her ultra-rational verbal response belying the fact that her steely emotional demeanour was melting like the soles of the unfortunate shoes of her partner, under the onslaught of his pheromone triggering eye-hump.

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Cam decided to get the show back on the road by calling the team to order. "So, Booth, Dr. Brennan, before we get started, what can you tell us about the victim?" she asked with her hands clasped hopefully in front of her.

Booth snapped out of his happy place, located in the depths of the mesmerising irises of his partner. He whipped out his colourful paper notes to relate the case details. "The body was discovered at a disused chemical disposal plant that's being decontaminated by the EPA. The plant has been inactive since 2002. A team decommissioning drainage pools found the victim lodged in a release valve. Looks like it's been there for a while."

"I disagree," piped up Brennan. "The water flow through the plant's drainage system, even its disused state, has significantly compromised the remains, probably speeding up decomp. Dr. Hodgins will have to undertake a comprehensive analysis of heavy metals and toxins that have leached into the bones, based upon the known levels mapped by the EPA since the closure of the plant."

Hodgins snorted derisively. "That's providing the figures haven't been doctored to cover up whatever environmental catastrophe they're trying to hide."

"There is no evidence to support that assumption at this time, Dr. Hodgins, so if we could keep the analysis focused on finding the identity and cause of death of the victim, please?" requested Cam wearily.

"I instructed the FBI team to take an independent reference set of soil samples, employing a grid pattern which Dr. Hodgins favours. This should go some way toward addressing any confounding issues," added Brennan.

Hodgins pouted at the theft of his conspiratorial thunder. Cam raised her eyes heavenward and mouthed silent words of thanks for Dr. Brennan's quasi-manic attention to crime scene details.

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"Hey, Bones!" interrupted Booth during Cam's moment of prayer. "Tonight, I'll buy you dinner. It's the least I can do to thank my partner for saving my life, right?"

"I appreciate the gesture, Booth, but I find your offer unnecessary. In any case, the benefits of our partnership are worth considerably more than any meal that we could ever share," replied Brennan earnestly.

Angela Montenegro gave a sigh at the words of her BFF, musing that Brennan was so close, yet so far from waking up, smelling the coffee, and reacting to the pheromones. Coffee was absolutely a code for sex in this context, of course.

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"Aww, Bones," said Booth bashfully, before grinning and leaning in toward her to share a thought that had just occurred to him. "We should use that one on Sweets sometime. The _'baby duck'_, would have _'baby ducks'_ over that statement," he said, using air quotes to punctuate his joke.

Brennan frowned. "Doctor Sweets is a male. So if he were a duck, he would have to copulate with a female duck to produce baby ducks. Following your reasoning, you are suggesting that if I make my assertion in our session, he would seek out Ms. Wick as his mate, his _'Daisy duck'_ if you will, and proceed to procreate?" she said imitating Booth's use of air quotes to make her point.

The snorts and wheezes of laughter that followed her comment completely flummoxed Brennan. She failed to find any humour whatsoever in discussing the sex life of Dr. Sweets. Generally their jibes were centred around the Psychologist's youth and alleged inexperience in sexual matters. She was simultaneously perplexed by this inconsistency, and concerned that Booth appeared to be having an acute asthma attack.

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"Daisy...duck, ahh...oh...man!" wheezed Booth, as his partner continued to stare at his outburst with detached interest.

"I will be unable to have dinner with you tonight in any event, Booth," said Brennan, as her partner pulled himself together. She prepared to follow the boxed remains up onto the platform.

Still red in the face, Booth asked. "No dinner? Why? Because I laughed about Daisy Duck?"

"No," she replied. "Because Doctor Saroyan and I are attending a Speed Dating event at the Founding Fathers Bar this evening."

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Cam's blood pressure spiked as her candid colleague let the cat out of the bag; and this particular feline was a feral, one-eyed, mangy little yowler; the Pathologist couldn't believe that she'd let Sweets talk her into involvement in this insanity. The kid had caught her off-guard on the previous week, while she was attempting to fish a fatal projectile from its hiding place somewhere in six feet of rapidly decomposing small intestine; talk about a slug in a slime-stack. Around bouts of puking in his mouth from the totally gnarly stench in the autopsy bay, Dr. Sweets had explained that he believed that Dr. Brennan would benefit from some low-risk social interaction with men other than her partner, since his star patients had both expressed their desire to move on from the spectre of the apparently unresolvable blocks to engaging in physical intimacy. A Speed Dating session was happening at the Founding Fathers next Tuesday. It would be 90 minutes of Cam's life. It wasn't too much to ask, was it? Yeah right, it was Wolfman and Maverick – Top Gun, the Squint Edition.

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"Speed dating?" squawked Booth. "With...Cam?"

Brennan nodded in the affirmative as she swiped her card to access the platform. "Yes."

"A bunch of strange guys, who get to ogle you and truck out their best pick-up lines against the clock?" said Booth incredulously, swiping his own card to follow her.

"All participants are screened, to ensure an appropriate cohort match of ages and genders. The literature suggests that discussion of issues such as travel and films, are more likely to achieve higher scores from potential mates in a Speed Dating scenario than using mere pick-up lines, Booth." Brennan had clearly been doing her Googling.

"Right. Movies and travel," mused Booth. "If any of those guys tell you about their love of surgical holidays in Thailand, or have a preference for movies with Mickey Rourke in them, or Steven Segal for that matter, you need to tell them you're not interested, okay?"

Brennan gave a _'whatever'_ shrug, as she duly filed away her partner's advice for future reference.

"I have travelled extensively, and I am a successful author with a book that is being made into a movie, so I imagine that I will have a large advantage over my female rivals being so well acquainted in these subject areas. My strategy is to focus upon making a good impression within the target success zone of 30 to 180 seconds following the commencement of the date. Hopefully, this will result in my achieving the highest scores possible, within the allotted time of seven minutes." It appeared that the Anthropologist had followed up her Googling with a Cochrane Collaborative Review.

"Dating isn't a sport, Bones!" said Booth, getting worried. "Just wear something nice...be yourself… isn't that right, Cam?"

Cam could have happily killed Booth for dragging her into their discussion. She turned from her position at the central bench on the platform and glared at him over the top rim of her safety goggles. "As usual, you've got me pegged, Seeley," she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was just going to go for smoky eye make-up and a push-up bra."

Hodgins snorted and received blows to his shins bilaterally, as Cam and Angela kicked him in tandem.

Brennan put on a large apron and donned gloves, as she looked at Cam. "A push up bra is unnecessary for me, the size of my breasts are sufficient to exclude any requirement for lingerie enhancement. In the past, I have been told that my breasts are spectacular..." she disclosed with a smile that would have bordered on naughty if she hadn't been deadly serious.

Every pair of eyes turned to look at Booth, who blanched, then turned puce with embarrassment. "Hey! Don't look at me! I didn't tell her that..." he retorted.

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His partner gave a small high laugh, followed by a low chuckle. She glanced back over her shoulder as she removed one of the seals on the container of human remains. "Booth is correct. Although he looks at my breasts occasionally during our interactions, he has never openly referred to them as spectacular, or otherwise."

"That is a travesty, Dr. B! If I were Booth, I'd have told you that your breasts were spectacular..._oof_...totally awesome..._oof_...erm, objectively pleasing..._Ow!_ What is this? Gangsta Riverdance?" grimaced Hodgins, his shins now sporting bruises upon their bruises.

Brennan gave a nod of acknowledgement toward her now almost crippled colleague. "Why thank you, Dr. Hodgins. I appreciate your objective candour."

Booth bristled with a mixture of indignation and acute jealousy. "Um, yeah. I'd agree with that Bug Man. They're really, really, ho...amaz...nice," he stammered.

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Brennan shook her head at Booth's effort, as she donned her mask along with everyone else on the platform. Cam used a pry bar to crack the seal on the box of remains. The top of the box popped open, releasing a foul odour, making everyone instinctively recoil a step. Two seconds later, the contamination alarms sounded.

"Okay everyone, you know the drill!" shouted Cam. "Hodgins help me put the lid back on this box. All personnel on the platform to the decontamination showers, now please! That includes you, Booth..."

Brennan took Booth by the upper arm and led him toward the stairs leading down from the platform. "Come on, Booth. You're with me, let's get showered."

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* * *

Dr. Camille Saroyan touched up her make-up and examined herself critically in the mirror of the ladies bathroom at the Founding Fathers. In all honesty, she still looked good; no scratch that, she looked great. Those tough years spent as a New York cop while studying for her medical degree, then going on to work as a Coroner in the grimiest, grungiest, gangsta hellhole on the East Coast of the USA, hadn't marred her features at all. The laugh lines and worry lines were there, for sure, but they were fine lines. Cam took good care of herself, looked after her body, dressed in high-end couture; she was a catch...any man would be lucky to have her, right?

Despite all the superficial reasons as to why she was attending the Speed Dating event, Cam sincerely hoped, that for once, everything would go smoothly. As soon as the all clear had been given at the Lab that afternoon, Booth had departed for the Hoover Building like the Hounds of Hell were snapping at his heels. Although Cam didn't want to think the worst of her old friend and flame, she had a strong suspicion that ten background checks would have occupied the remainder of his day. He had clearly been determined to get away from the Jeffersonian, that much was evident. As for his partner, tonight was shaping up to be like a Flyers Finals replay; Dr. Brennan was gunning for the cup by trying to Speed Date against the Blackhawks line-up. She was Reggie Leach trying to score, without Bobby Clarke to assist.

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Heading back out to the main bar, Cam spied Brennan at the registration table. She wore a simple flowing Hunter Green dress that fell to the knee, with subtle darts, cinches and pleats in all the right places. The men attending the function tonight were going to be smitten by her appearance, just prior to being bitten by the intellect that she would no doubt unleash on their unsuspecting egos.

Brennan spotted Cam and waved a small pamphlet in greeting, as she made her way over to order a drink.

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"You look very alluring, Dr. Saroyan. Would you like a drink?" asked Brennan.

"Yes, thank you. I'll have a glass of red. Hopefully, the men here tonight will find me as alluring as you do, Dr. Brennan. You look very attractive too, not that you are here to attract the attention of other women," said Cam dryly, taking a sip of her proffered wine from the bartender.

"Oh no," chuckled Brennan. "I am definitely not interested in banging for the other team!"

Cam almost gave herself a broncho-alveolar lavage with her red wine. She spluttered in a ladylike fashion. "I believe that the correct term to use in this context is _'batting'_ for the other team. You probably don't want to get involved in anything that involves _'banging'_...Actually, you know what? Never mind..." said Cam, as she realised her efforts were futile without a copy of the Urban Dictionary to hand.

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"I have obtained a copy of the ground rules for the session," said Brennan holding out the pamphlet, getting down to business. "We have ten dates, each of seven minutes duration, with a two minute transition interval following each date. An electronic door chime will sound to mark each time period. Females will remain seated at this event, with male dates moving counterclockwise between tables, which according to the literature means that the men will be more likely to be selective about the women they meet here tonight."

"How interesting..." said Cam.

"Yes. I find it fascinating that a ritualistic cultural tradition, originally aimed at encouraging Jewish youth to interact with a view to matchmaking for marriage, has become so widely popularised." Brennan paused and took the opportunity knock back a decent slug of courage from her own red wine. She suddenly found that she had last minute questions that she wanted to ask; questions that would usually be pitched at Booth over a few drinks at this bar.

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The sound of a doorbell being rung repeatedly, like a prankster kid would do before running like hell down the street, effectively ended Brennan's quest to seek any further guidance. Cam took a seat across the room from her colleague and waited for the 'looking for love' parade to begin.

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_**The bell chimed.**_

Cam looked her first date as he sat down at her table, his badge proclaimed _'Hi, my name is Andrew'_. He stuck out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Andrew," he said with a brief grin.

"I noticed..." she replied dryly. She pointed at the lapel of his jacket. "The badge is a dead giveaway."

"Oh, yeah...ha ha ha!" Andrew dissolved into nervous laughter which was punctuated by loud snorts.

Cam cringed. _'Oh Lordy, a snorter'_, she thought. "Bad allergies?" she asked politely.

"The worst!" gushed Andrew in hypochondriac nirvana. "My Mom has a cat..."

"I love cats!" Cam interjected enthusiastically, lying her Prada-clad ass off. "I have three at the moment. But I'm considering a career in breeding them."

Brennan had successfully steered the conversation topic to travel with her first date, Jake, within a mere ninety seconds of the round commencing. It was a most satisfactory start to the event. Her date was telling her about his travels to South America and attempting to relate a charming story of a near-miss bar fight triggered by an amusing _'lost in translation'_ moment.

"I suppose it was lucky that the guy came to his senses and thought better of taking on a tourist," said Jake with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"I subscribe to the concept of luck, but I agree that managing to escape unharmed probably avoided your being fatally stabbed," observed Brennan. "Bar fights in that part of the world are generally fast and vicious. Personally, I prefer to take offensive rather than evasive action in that kind of scenario."

"Right..." said Jake, clearly not believing a word she said."What would you do?" he asked condescendingly in an attempt at sarcasm.

The sarcasm zinged past her ears, as Brennan sipped at her wine considering possible strategies. "There are a lot of variables to consider," she mused. "The size and build of the assailant, the level of debilitation from inebriation, telltale signs of concealed weapons. But for a quick getaway, I would recommend throwing a drink in his face, followed by delivery of a well aimed kick to the testicles..."

Jake cupped his testicles protectively. "Are you for real?" he asked incredulously.

"You asked what action I would take, I simply answered. For your information, I have actually employed this technique in a Cantina in rural Mexico, it was highly effective" she admitted candidly with a smile.

"Holy, shit. I just took a Contiki tour, not a Special Ops mission..." said Jake feeling particularly emasculated at this point. He decided to change the subject; she didn't seem like the chick flick type, so he kicked off in the action movie genre. "Do you like Steven Segal movies, Temperance?" he asked, mistaking the widening of her eyes as piqued interest.

Cam was enjoying the brief respite between dates as the men completed their scorecards and moved between tables. She wished that she'd brought along her prescription pad. Her first date needed a course of inhaled steroids and high dose of anti-histamine; her second date was clearly in his manic phase of bi-polar disorder and needed his mood stabiliser meds adjusting. He was an otherwise lovely man.

_**The bell chimed.**_

Cam suppressed an urge to give a Quasimodo-style groan in a Pavlovian response to the sound.

The cloying scent of Sandalwood overload arrived a full five seconds prior to her next date. He was easy on the eye though, she conceded as they made their introductions.

"So, Mark, what is it that you do?" asked Cam.

"I'm a veterinarian," he admitted and winced. "You don't have lots of pets do you? Generally, I try not to disclose my profession, because I end up with more new patients than dates from these events when I do."

Cam laughed. "No. No pets."

"So, what do you do, Cam?" he asked in return.

"I'm a forensic pathologist," she replied. "You don't have any corpses with you tonight, do you Mark? Because I'm really not interested in new referrals either."

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Across the room, Brennan was telling her next date about her travels in India as a Grad student.

Nathan listened attentively, until Brennan, who was surreptitiously timing her responses to balance the proportion of discourse, asked him whether he had travelled much.

"I went to Thailand a couple of years ago. It was an amazing place, it changed me," he said wistfully.

Brennan paid closer attention to her date at the mention of one of Booth's warning signs and paused.

"I take it that you are not referring to a spiritual enlightenment, on your trip to Thailand. I must say, that in the subdued lighting, even I may not have noticed."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Temperance. Thailand is a very spiritual country," said Nathan warily.

Brennan leaned forward across the table, her cleavage attracting the attentions of the man at the next table, much to the disdain of the woman he was supposed to be paying attention to. She pointed at Nathan's forehead.

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"Your brow ridges have been modified with small implants, as have your zygomatic and mandibular prominences. It is very fine work, the chin dimple is very authentic," she said clinically.

"Yes, well, I... 'er was in an accident," said Nathan, his/her eyes widening in alarm. Fortunately, Brennan picked up on the taboos of her findings, before she fully appreciated the acute discomfort of her date.

She raised her voice a little louder. "Yes. I can also see that you also injured your nasal bridge at some point. How were you injured?" she asked.

"Bar fight," replied Nathan, breathing again.

"Pool cue to the face?" asked Brennan.

Nathan did a double-take. "What is this? _'This is your life'_… How could you possibly know that?"

"I am the foremost Forensic Anthropologist in the country. Your bone structure tells me everything that I need to know," she lowered her voice and indicated that she wanted to tell Nathan something for his ears only. He gave a grin and leaned in.

"There are also things that your bones tell me, that nobody needs to know," said Brennan in a low voice. "I'm curious though. Was the bar fight before, or after your reassignment surgery?"

Nathan sat back with a smile. "Before. Bar in Phoenix."

Brennan gave a chuckle. "I have been involved in quite a few bar fights on my travels, but never one here in the States."

"We should become drinking buddies then, Temperance. I like a girl who can handle herself in a fight," flirted Nathan outrageously. "Let me tell you about the time I broke my knuckles in a biker bar in California."

"Please, call me Tempe. I would be delighted if you'd tell me about it. May I see?" she asked, holding her hand so she could look at the bone remodelling to his damaged hand.

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_**The bell chimed.**_

As Cam faced her final date for the evening, she was torn between wanting to run to Sweets for some emergency therapy, and plain old running him through with the next suitable sharp object that she happened to lay her hands on. He called this environment low-risk? Although, she had to concede that Brennan appeared to be having a good time. Obviously, her colleague had steered well clear of subjects that would strike fear into her dates. She noted that Brennan's final date for the evening was the firefighter, Lee. Cam had found him to be quite distant, particularly after she'd advised him to get some attention on a nasty burn on his wrist. The guy had virtually blown her off at that point, changing the subject to shop-talk.

"Hi, I'm Nathan," said her final date. "Tempe tells me that you're one of the only people that she'd trust to stitch her up after a bar fight."

"Really? She said that?" said Cam.

"Yeah, she said lots of interesting things," replied Nathan. "Your workplace must be a pretty unusual place."

"Nathan. You have no idea..." said Cam with a smile, relaxing into her final seven minute stretch for the evening.

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"I'm Lee, and you are Dr. Temperance Brennan!" announced her final date as he sat down with a swagger.

Brennan gave Lee a piercing look. "Thank you. I am aware of who I am...oh, you mean that you recognise me from my books?"

"I've read your books," said Lee. "I like the cases and the science, but I think that you should kill off that Andy guy, he's just wasting Kathy's time."

"I appreciate your feedback, Lee, but the partnership between Kathy and Andy is central to the plot progression of my books," she explained.

Lee gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You and I have met before, Temperance. On several occasions."

"Really? At my book tours?" asked Brennan.

"No, Temperance. At crime scenes. You don't even remember me from this morning, do you?" he asked.

"At crime scenes, I primarily focus on my work, Lee. Cataloguing the personnel present would be a superfluous activity, and poor use of my time," she replied evenly, wishing that Booth was around. There was something not quite right about this man who was staring at her intently. His eyes had not even strayed to her breasts once, perhaps he was gay, she mused.

.

"I'm the firefighter that had to save your partner from caustic burns. You remember me now, don't you? Yellow firefighter gear, big helmet, holding the canister of neutralising foam..." said Lee.

"Yes. I recall the intervention with the neutralising agent, but I am the one who saved Booth by tackling him onto the tarpaulin," corrected Brennan.

"Are you always this obtuse? I'm not ashamed to admit that I like sassy women, but you're bordering on rude. I could help you with that," suggested Lee with a leer.

"You are a firefighter, not an expert in behaviour modification; not that I require, or subscribe to such methods," she replied, bristling slightly from the attitude of her final date for the evening.

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Lee became more animated as he leaned forward to make a point. "I beg to differ, Temperance. Your pussy-whipped G-man partner is always playing interference at crime scenes around you. He just doesn't know what you really need."

Brennan raised her brows at the disrespectful attitude toward her partner and the gaul of the man in general. "Your tone suggests that you believe you know what I need, which would be highly unlikely, given that we've never even spoken before."

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This final date was become tiresome, she glanced over to the clock on the wall, only two minutes remained as his captive audience. A few people were gathered near the front door of the Founding Fathers, no doubt waiting for the tables to be cleared.

Lee gave a laugh in response to Brennan's cold rebuke. "You're playing hard to get; how clichéd. I'll tell you what you need, Doctor Brennan. You need to get on your back, open your legs, and let a real man put you in your place, by fucking you into submission. A real man like.."

"Booth!" called out Brennan as she saw him cross the room with two uniformed cops in tow.

"Not Booth, you bitch! Me!" growled Lee.

She gave the man a cold stare and clenched her fists on her lap. "I have no desire to have sex with you, whatsoever."

His bark of laughter was cruel now, as his eyes narrowed and he hissed at her. "Frigid bitch. Don't dismiss me before I've had a chance to prove myself...you like evidence, right? If your partner was half the man I was, he'd keep you in line. He should have been in the Burns Unit tonight, but you had to go and save his pathetic ass when he stepped in that caustic at the crime scene."

"I have nothing further to say to you, Lee. I find you to be a very unpleasant person..."

Booth had hauled a man out of his seat. He was Mirandising the veterinarian, before handing him over to law enforcement. Brennan realised, that the incident with the caustic burns to Booth's shoes earlier had been no accident. She stood, just as the final bell chimed. Lee grabbed her forearm.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Lee, standing up to block her exit.

Brennan grabbed a glass with her free hand from the table beside her and threw the drink in her assailant's face, before aiming a well aimed kick to his groin. He crumpled to the ground cursing, drawing the attention of the entire bar. Booth looked at Brennan, then looked at the guy picking himself up from the floor, cradling the nexus of white-hot pain where his balls used to be. Lee's face was a mixture of anger and agony; the anger was driving him to get up.

When he got back onto his feet, he lurched at Brennan. "You're gonna pay for that, bitch!" he roared.

"Not tonight, ass-wipe!" said a voice attached to the fist that delivered an uppercut to the jaw of the man who was clearly deranged. Lee dropped to the ground, stunned. Nathan, stood there rubbing his knuckles. "Your first All-American bar fight! Congratulations, Tempe," said Nathan with a wide grin.

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Booth had his gun drawn and aimed at Lee, who tried yet again to stir. "Don't even think about it, pal." He nodded at Nathan. "Nice uppercut there. You do any boxing?" enquired Booth.

Nathan gave a laugh. "Thanks! Did some in high school, but they kicked me off the team, something to do with me hitting like a girl. But I've kept my hand in with a bar fight or two over the years."

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Cam pushed her way through those now crowding around the scene of the incident, as Booth began bellowing for people to step back. "Wow! This guy?" remarked Cam. "He is a piece of work. What happened with the vet guy?"

"Wanted on controlled substances charges, the guy peddled Special K to high school kids. We got a tip off," said Booth.

"From a background check, right?" said Cam. "Plus you've stumbled on another bad guy!"

Brennan agreed. "This man is a bad guy. He tried to harm Booth by planting a caustic agent at the crime scene, knowing that Booth would not be wearing protective footwear."

Booth did a double-take at the development. "Seriously?" He nudged the groaning form of the man on the ground with his foot. "They were my favourite shoes, asshole! Luckily, I'm gonna exact revenge for them, by arresting you for attempted assault on a Federal Officer." He began reciting the Miranda rights for the second time in ten minutes.

"That explains the caustic burn on his wrist," mused Cam. "He's going to need to go to hospital. He could lose his hand." She took her cellphone from her bag to call an ambulance and alert the Burn Unit.

Booth gave a snort. "Son of a bitch doesn't deserve it, but he's gonna need that hand in jail."

.

* * *

An hour later, the disaster area that had taken over the Founding Fathers Bar had cleared, leaving Booth, Brennan and Cam seated at the bar.

"I'm going to get home to Michelle," said Cam. "Remind me never to say _'yes'_ to Sweets again, or go Speed Dating."

.

They exchanged farewells and Cam left Brennan attempting to extol the benefits of a seven minute dating format to Booth, who was clearly going to attempt to prove his partner wrong. The Pathologist glanced at the table next to the front door, an evil grin spreading across her features as she placed her index finger to the doorbell chime that remained there.

.

_**The bell chimed.**_

Booth and Brennan looked at each other and smiled.

"We have seven minutes to impress each other, Bones. Are you up for it?" asked Booth, angling his beer bottle to toast her wine glass.

"I've known you for seven years, Booth. You don't really have to try," she replied.

"That Nathan guy, seemed impress you. He seems like a stand up guy," he deflected.

"Nathan impressed me, because he used to be a woman. I'm not interested in pursuing a sexual relationship with him," she replied candidly.

Booth almost dropped his beer bottle in shock. "Wow! Impressive...and you have to admit, a little weird."

.

"We've got six and a half minutes left. Do you want to Speed Date, or talk about Nathan?" she asked archly.

"Tough choice to make against the clock there, Bones!" he laughed, bumping shoulders with her.

She laid a hand on his forearm and tilted her head toward Booth, her expression serious now. "You remain my objective standard. As such, you will undoubtedly score higher than any of the men that I met here tonight."

"Even that guy you kicked in the testicles?" murmured Booth next to her ear, before pulling away with a grin.

"Especially him, and he had it coming. The man called me a frigid bitch," she said by way of explanation.

"No one has the right to call you that! Y'know, I should have shot the bastard when I had the chance. He doesn't even know you," he protested.

"Perhaps there was some truth in his words, he implied that my behaviour was the reason our relationship..." she trailed off, avoiding his gaze.

.

He used his trigger finger to pull back the curtain of hair that partially hid her expression, pantomiming looking around it to see her face. "Hey now, let's leave the psychological mumbo jumbo to Sweets, huh? This is a date, not a therapy session."

Brennan smiled. "That is very true. We should order another drink seeing as our seven minutes are almost up."

"No more booze. I've got a better idea. Let's head to the Diner. I feel like some pie!" said Booth, making his eyebrows dance comically.

"Our speed date leads to a pie date?" asked Brennan. "Remember what Sweets said about pie and seduction, Booth..."

Booth stood and grabbed his jacket. "Eh, we'll call it a pie eating contest or something."

"To see how much pie you can eat in seven minutes? There is nothing seductive about that, Booth. Although, there are a lot of calories involved," said Brennan, looping her arm through his.

"How about we talk about all the ways that we could work those calories off then?" he asked suggestively, as they approached the front door of the bar.

"I could tell you about ways to work off calories in seven minutes. But I'm warning you, some of those ways involve sex," she teased.

Booth used his free arm to push open the door onto the darkened street. "That sounds...energetic, and probably not something that we should really be talking about at the Diner, Bones."

.

Strolling down the sidewalk their banter escalated into dangerous territory. Who knew what the addition of pie would bring.

She said. "I can be very energetic, you know. You'd be surprised what I can achieve in seven minutes."

He said. "Imagine what we could achieve together..."

* * *

**Feel free to leave a speedy, calorie-burning review on your way out, my muse needs exercise… **


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